Looking Through His Eyes repost
by damandabear 2
Summary: gee, i think this is only PG...anyway, repost of mulder's thoughts durning the end of season 6.


**The X-Files: Through His Eyes**

**(Spoilers: minor mentions of "Genderbender" and "The End/The Beginning," but the whole story takes place through "Milagro," "Three of a Kind," and "The Unnatural")**

**Author's Note: "Three of a Kind" and "The Unnatural" are out of sequence.**

**By Damandabear 2**

**MILAGRO**

I feel my finger clenching the trigger. What does he mean _she dies_? Like hell, if I'm going to let him kill her. Before my finger can pull the metal fang back completely, I hear two other gunshots. Panicky gunshots. I look up to the ceiling, half hoping to see what is going on above. I can't, so I have no choice but to leave Paget as he is. He is no longer my concernnot as long as she is up there, and not until I know she is safe. My muscles, which will no doubt ache tomorrow as a consequence for running up the stairs faster than I should, are for now completely numb. All I can think about is her. All I can do is pray she's okay. Four flights of stairs. Five if you count the basement. _Magic _couldn't have gotten me to my floor any faster than the determination and fear that is violently taking over my veins. I seem to be approaching my door too quickly because even though I want to run inside and make sure she is alright, I feel sick to my stomach with the thought that she isn't. I swing the door opengun at the ready position for anyoneand look around. My muscles are no longer the only parts of my body that are numb. My whole body is numb. My arms go limp as I see her lying on the floor covered in her own blood, looking far from peaceful. I am completely dumbfounded. I can't speak…I can't think…I can hardly breathe. I kneel down to her, and I can actually feel my heart stop beating. This _can't _be. She can't really be _gone_…_can _she? Just then, her body jolts to life, scaring the hell out of me at first. She clings onto me for dear life and begins to cry. _Thank God_, I silently praise. Her sobs amplify, and I hold her tighter in my embrace. Her body convulses in my arms in fear, and I am thankful that she is shaking too much to notice that I am shaking too.

It is just less than five minutes later when her cries die down to a light whimper whenever she exhales. By now, I am lying on the floor and holding her in one arm. For the next few seconds, she is able to calm herself, but she still holds me tightly. It's almost as if she is too afraid to let go. To be honest, so am I. Her face is hiding in my chest, and my chin is resting on the top of her head. Both of us completely calm, we just lie on the floor for another minute…taking it all in. "You want to get cleaned up?" I finally ask. I am relieved that she is alive, but the blood all over her face, neck, and shirt are a little more than I can bear. She doesn't answer. Instead, she tries to get up. Instantly, I stand to help her to her feet. Leading her to my bathroom, I offer to help in any way that I can. She looks so fragile…so…delicate and so…precious. She shakes her head slowly, telling me she will just need a moment. I grab one of my shirts from a nearby drawer and lay it in her hands. "For now," I whisper. She knows it's because I am uncomfortable with the blood on her shirt, and I know she finds my weak stomach cuteshe always hasbut she doesn't smile like she normally would. She can't. I know she is smiling on the inside, nonetheless. As I leave the bathroom and my bedroom, I remember Paget. Though I don't want to leave Scully at a moment like this, curiosity gets the best of me. "I'll be right back," I call. I don't leave until I hear her reply.

"Paget?" I exclaim as I _walk_ down the stairs into the basement, already feeling the pain. My knee is really bothering me, so I look down at it, pulling my jeans up my leg just enough to see. Sure enough, there is a large bruise. I probably fell when I was running up the stairs. Whether or not that is the case, I don't remember. I enter the basement and shudder at the sight that I find. _Guess I gotta call this in_, I think to myself wearily when I find his body. He is lying on a table…dead, of course. His heart is in his hand. I notice that it is faintly beating and my stomach churns. I start to head back up to daylight where my cell phone can get reception when I find pieces of a few pages from his book. They had blown out of the incinerator with other ash. That's when it hits me. _He saved her_. I feel a lump form in my throat at the thought of my partner being _dead_. In that moment, I realize there is absolutely nothing in the world that scares me more than the thought of losing her forever. I wipe a stray tear with my arm as if brushing the very thought into inexistence with it and persist back up the stairs. "Yeah, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder, with the FBI…" I drone into the phone. I'm not exactly sure what I say, but when the call is over, I hear the voice on the other end say the MEs will be here shortly. "Thank you." I decide I should go back up to my apartment…this time taking the elevator. When I get there, my partner is nowhere to be found. I feel myself start to panic until I come across a note she has left. _Thank you for everything, Mulder, but I need to go home. I'll see you at work._ I have just read the last word when I look down and see my shirt. I reach for my phone but pull back my hand. Not now. _She needs some space_, I tell myself. _She needs time_.

**THREE OF A KIND**

Yes, that was one of the scariest moments in my life. Hers too, I would imagine. But it scared me in a different way…or perhaps, that is what makes it different…that it scared me in the same way. I sit at my desk and stare at her as I have done so many times. In a way, we were scared of the same thing that day. She was scared of losing her life, and so was I…because she _is_ my lifeHeaven forbid I ever say it out loud. I know she notices my uninterrupted gaze, but she gracefully continues to pretend she hasn't. I have offered to talk about what happened many times, but she wants nothing to do with it. I can't say that I blame her. It is scary enough to be encountered by something like that when you understand and believe in it. It must be hell for a person like her who does neither. It is the end of another week, and she excuses herself for a restful weekend to regroup. After she leaves, I finally decide to put an end to my procrastination and get my reports caught up and turned in to Skinner.

A few days later, I get an unexpected phone call that turns out to be more amusing than I would ever be brave enough to say to my partner's face. "Mulder," I answer, rubbing some sleep from my eyes.

"Hello? Mulder? Can you hear me?" I guess there's a lot of static on her end.

"What is it, Scully?" I wonder into the phone.

"I'm at the hotel. Where are you?"

"Huh? What hotel?" _Did I miss something?_

_"_What do you mean 'what hotel?'? Las Vegas. I'm in Las Vegas. Aren't you?"

"No," I say in a perplexed tone. _Am I supposed to be?_

"You called me," she insists, mirroring the same tone.

I try not to laugh as I say, "I never called you."

"What do you mean you didn't call me?" There is a moment of silence as she realizes she has been used. "Ah man," she grunts. "I am going to kick their asses."

I hear her hang up on me, but it's just as well because I am unable to stifle my chuckling any longer. I scroll through the names on my phone, knowing exactly whose _asses_ she is going to _kick_. "Well if it isn't the three stooges," I chime into the receiver when I hear Frohike answer. I know that even though he is the one answering, Byers and Langly can hear me too. There is more silence, and I know they are waiting for me to get mad. _Yeah right._ "She knows it was you, you guys," I taunt.

Frohike's voice echoes indirectly into the phone. "I told you guys!" he hollers accusingly.

I laugh, not even bothering to hide it this time. Can they really be that fearful of her? Well, if I were them, I guess I would be tooespecially if I had just tricked her into going to Las Vegas. "So, what did you four do over there? Did you have any fun? Any embarrassing…anecdotes?"

I can almost hear the mischievous grins curl across their faces as Langly says, "Actually…yeah."

"Well? What happened?" I prompt, getting almost giddy with anticipation.

"You wouldn't _believe_ what Agent Scully did!" Langly gushes.

This really gets my attention. "You know," I grin into the phone, "I _want_ to _believe_."

Byers starts talking. "Well, you will enjoy this, Mulder. While Agent Scully was conducting an autopsy for us, this guy came up and grabbed her from behind, injecting something into"

"What?" I interrupted, suddenly very serious. There was an obvious awkwardness coming from their end of the line as they realize how dangerous something like that really was. "Obviously, she's okay," I continue. "But…" I am completely speechless. After the whole Phillip Paget incident, I have become even more paranoid. Paranoid about whether or not she is safe.

"Mulder, it was just a brainwashing device to make her forget her findings," Byers says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stay calm. "Brainwashing? I thought you were going to have some gambling stories or that she got drunk or something. I don't want to heart _this_."

"But that's just it," Byers sighs. "She wasn't in danger…not really…well, I mean, we got lucky, I guess. But listen! You should have seen her; it was hilarious! We found the mark behind her ear, so we knew to give her the antidote…but before that, the side effects were really entertaining."

Giving in to the fact that my partner is obviously okay, I decide to allow myself to be interested again. "What sort of effects?" I ask, grinning once more.

"Well," Langly says proudly, "I found her on the floor in the autopsy room, and when she saw me, she called me 'cutie.'" I can actually feel my jaw drop. "Then she was acting like a little kid when I asked her about her findings. It was really funny."

"Oh my gosh," I gasp, covering my mouth with my free hand.

Next, Frohike takes over. "Then Langly left me in the casino, and I heard her laughing in the distance, so I went to see what she was up to."

"And?" I prompt impatiently…thoroughly enjoying this.

"She was sitting on one of the card tables with a bunch of guys standing around her, and they were all flirting with her, and she was flirting back. Then this one guy offered her a cigarette, which she took in her mouth, and she was like, 'But who has a match?' and every guy held lighters lit in front of her! I didn't know what to think because I know she doesn't smoke!"

I couldn't care less about what Frohike was thinking. I wanted to hear more. "What did she do then?" I asked. "With all the lighters in front of her?"

"Well, I took the cigarette from her after she said this stupid little flirting line."

"Wha-What did she say?" I was trying to picture _my partner_ doing this…I couldn't.

"'I can't decide who lights my fire.' It was kinda sexy, actually," he finally concedes.

For a second, I was almost depressed that I had missed the whole thing. "Wow," is all I can say.

"That's not even it," he laughs. "I was dragging her away when this guy stepped in front of her, and I couldn't hear what _he_ said, but Scully told him, 'Maybe next time,' and slapped his backend!"

"What?" I gasp. I can't make up my mind about how I feel about this.

"Yeah! And by the time I could get her to our room, she had squeezed mine a couple times too!"

"I bet you enjoyed that, Frohike. Your little fantasy was finally starting to play itself out, huh?" I tease with a laugh. Silence. "What else?" I demand, craving more images of my partner in this rare mood.

"Actually," Byers states matter-of-factly, "that's about it. We gave her the antidote, and she passed out. Had to…sleep it off, if you will."

I am very delighted by this story of theirs, despite the potential danger at risk. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem," Langly replies. "But if you don't mind us cutting it short, we have some hiding out to do." I snicker as I rest my phone back into its cradle. _Boy, would I have loved to see that._

For the next few days, I tease Scully about her behavior in Vegas. Skinner has assigned us a strange case in Reno, and I can't help taking advantage of the familiarity of the location. "I told you, Mulder! I wasn't myself." I give her a little grin as we walk up to one of the dealers.

"That's too bad," I whisper coolly. To my advantage, we are too close to the woman for Scully to react vocally to my comment…but I do get an entertaining, evil glare out of her. I mock her jokingly and glare back. The green table reminds me more of the Gunmen's story, and I am extremely temped to tease her about that too, but we must be in FBI mode. "Hello," I say to the woman, exposing my badge, as does my partner. "We are Special Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI. May we have a moment of your time after this game?" The woman nods and tosses a glance at a guy at the bar. He finishes his…coke?…and approaches the table. He takes her place, and she exits the game. "Thank you," I say and step to the side. "Where is a good place to talk?" The card dealer leads us to a booth in the café in the next room.

Time flies by quickly for Scully and me as we try to take our notes as fast as the woman is speaking. This interview proves to be very helpful. "Thank you very much," my partner says when she is finished. "You have just solved our case for us. And you wouldn't have a problem testifying what you have told us in court, right?" The woman smiles and shakes her head. Scully and I thank her again, and then the dealer is on her way. "I think that's the fastest we've ever solved a case, Mulder," she sighs.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't an X-File…that's for sure," I complain. If we hadn't been in the casino atmosphere, I would be bored out of my mind.

"That's why it was so easy," she offers, rolling her eyes. "Imagine if it were always like this."

"I wouldn't like it. There was nothing interesting about this case in the least."

"That's not always a bad thing, Mulder." She lays her head back against the cushion and rests her eyes. I can tell she is exhausted. The flight here was long and turbulent. My hand still hurts from where her fingernails had dug into my skin. Then she looks at me. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," I answer, just now realizing that I _am_ smiling.

"Yeah right."

"Do you have any recollection of it at all?"

"Of what? Vegas?"

"Yeah."

"Not the parts you keep teasing me about." I lean back against the cushion of the booth too. I let my mind wander, and it comes across all the times things have happened to her that she couldn't remember. I think the first time was in that Amish community…or whatever the hell kind of community it was. I found her just in time to catch one of the guys trying to…with her. This memory bothers me now more than it had at the time because I know her better now. I didn't loI mean, I wasn't as close to her then. Anyway, she didn't remember that. When she was returned from her abduction, there was plenty of memory loss there. This most recent memory loss was different though, because she had a good time. _Too bad she doesn't remember that_, I think, chuckling aloud. Then again, there are plenty of things from my past that I don't remember either…my first year of college, for that matter. "Now what?" I hear her ask. Oh, my chuckling.

"I was just thinking," I answer.

"About what?"

I grin at her as if to tease her for being so insecure. "If you _must_ know, I'm still trying to picture you doing those things in Vegas. Frohike said you were flat out flirting with complete strangers."

"You say that as if it bothers you," she says, teasing me back. "Besides, it's not like I don't flirt."

I sit quietly for a moment, and I can feel her hand entangle fingers around mine. "First of all," I begina little flustered"I never said it _bothered_ me…" She gives me one of her famous skeptical looks. "…and second of all, you are the more subtle type. You don't just openly flirt like that."

"What are you upset about? I already told you I don't remember it, and I certainly wasn't myself when it happened…so what's the big deal?"

That was a very good question…one I couldn't even answer. Why do I care so much if she flirts with other guys anyways? It's not like we have any sort of claim on each other…do we? What the hell is going on with me? How far back do these feelings I am having go?

"Mulder?"

I don't know, but the innuendos go back almost all the way. Almost six whole years. Has it really been that long? Come to think of it, it feels as if we have been together longer.

"Mulder?"

"Huh? Oh…sorry…what?"

"I'm sorry that I upset you…even though I don't know how," she adds with an eye-roll.

"You don't owe me an apology, Scully. I don't know what's going on with me."

I'm not sure why, but a smile creeps across her face as if what I said has delighted her. "Oh?"

_Oh_? What does _that_ mean? Whatever… "Let's go home, Scully."

The flight back to D.C. is surprisingly calm. Scully has finally been able to fall asleep, and I am leaning back into my chair trying to do the same. My mind begins to wander again, and I seem to forget I am still in the plane.

_Paget is sitting in a prison cell, and Scully and I are standing outside of it. We are leaving. The way he has described her in his book threatens me. It makes my realize that I am not the only man who notices how beautiful she is. There are other men in the world who are attracted to her. I am, by far, not her only option. The things he has written about her disgust me…they terrify me. When I confront her, she insists she would never do such a wild, foolish thing, but as I turn away, I catch a glimpse of fear and wonder flicker in her eyes. Could she really be the type of person who would have done what Paget has written in his novel? I am walking back toward the cell, but I don't understand why. I thought I just left. No, this is later. I have his book in a bag in my hand and my partner at my heels. Everything that has happened between then and now is lost to the past. It is not what my dream is interested in reminding me, I guess. I am letting him go. He starts to leave but turns back to face us. "In my book, I said that Agent Scully falls in love, but that is obviously impossible," he says. Curious, I ask him why that is. With a hard to miss sadness, he replies, "Because Agent Scully is already in love." What? My face remains calm and unaffected, but my heart skips a beat. I force myself to dismiss his words as a naïve misinterpretation, but as he walks away, I notice something I did not notice before. Her face. An expression that yearns for surrender but fights for victory all at once. It is odd to me because I don't know what inner war she is fighting. Could it be? Could Paget be right? If she is already in love…is it with m_

"Mulder, we're here," interrupts a tired voice, which is followed by a yawn.

"What? No," I whine. "I was just getting to the good part."

She gives me a baffled look, but quickly puts up her hands. "I don't want to know."

"No," I laugh, more embarrassed than amused. "It's not like that."

She stands to retrieve her carry-on bag and smiles. "It never is."

As always, we go on as if nothing has happened. Instead of talking things out, like I wish we could do, we dive back into our work. Friday rolls back around and another week is complete. The whole day, all I can do is think about how much I want to ask her if she wants to get together this weekend. I don't want it to sound like a date, though. That makes things tuff. So that eliminates my dinner-and-a-movie idea. What if she just comes over tomorrow night to hang out? We can rent a movie, or watch one that I already have. No…that's too casual. Nothing's wrong with casual, but she might be uncomfortable. Oh, I don't know. "Well," I hear her voice trail tiredly across the room. "I guess I'll see you Mondaybright and early." She grabs her purse, and I suddenly get an idea.

"Actually, Scully, if you're not busy, there's some research I'll be coming in tomorrow to do. Think you'd be interested in joining me?" She shifts her weight uneasily and stares at her feet. I can tell that she is desperately trying to think of a way to get out of it. "I could really use the extra help," I add.

"Fine," she huffs. "I'll see you tomorrow." This isn't exactly the reaction I hoped for.

"Then it's a date!" I call to her as she leaves the office. "Huh," I say to myself, "That went well."

**THE UNNATURAL**

I am sitting at my desk, reading from one of the FBI's large reference books when Scully enters the room, carrying the other big books I have requested. She sets them on the desk in front of me and walks to the window, stepping up on a stool to get a better view. "Mulder," she groans, "it is such a gorgeous day outside. Do you ever entertain the idea of trying to find life on _this _planet?"

Without even bothering to look up from the oversized book in front of me, I answer, "I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I'm looking elsewhere." I hear the rustling of a paper bag and glance over to find her opening a frozen treat. She is still on the stool, gazing down at me as she takes her first taste of what looks like an ice cream cone. "Did you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?" I ask in an accusing tone.

"It's not ice cream," she grins between licks. "It's a non-fat tofutti rice dreamcicle."

"Ugh! I bet the air in my mouth tastes better than that! You sure know how to live it up, Scully."

"Oh, you're mister 'live it up,' Mulder," she says, dismounting the stool. "You're really mister 'squeeze every last drop out of this sweet life,' aren't you?" _Here we go,_ I muse. "On this precious Saturday, you've got us grabbing life by the testes…stealing reference books from the FBI library in order to go through New Mexico newspaper obituaries for the years 1940 to 1949...and for what joyful purpose?"

"Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how many so called 'flying disc' reports there were in New Mexico in the 1940s?"

"I don't care! Mulder, this is a needle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for fifty years. Let them rest in peace; let sleeping dogs lie."

"Well, I won't sit idly by as you hurl clichés at me. Preparation is the father of inspiration," I hurl back, sitting up in my chairready for anything she tosses my way.

"Necessity is the mother of invention."

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."

"Eat, drink, be merry for tomorrow we may die," she grins, taking another bite.

"I scream, you scream, we all scream for non-fat tofutti rice dreamcicle!" I grab the cone in her hands and violently take a huge bite, crashing our hands and it down on the open book.

"No! No!" she screams playfully. Her laughter is so cute, and for once, I feel like she is enjoying herself. "Mulder? Mulder! You cheat!" she teases, pointing at the page with the non-fat whatever-the-hell-it-is on it. "I can't believe it! You've been reading about baseball this whole time."

"I'm reading the box scores, Scully," I inform her. "You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of baseball games into one tiny, perfect rectangular sequence of numbers." She appears to be interested, but I can't tell if she really is or if she's just humoring me. "I can look at this box, and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me. They comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same. It's"

"boring." She had just been humoring me. "Mulder, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course not," I answer, trying to hide the pain, when a picture under the ice cream catches my attention. I wipe it away to read the caption, not even listening to her anymore.

"Did your mother ever tell you to go outside and play?"

"Is that Arthur Dales?" I mumble to myself.

"Mulder?" I fake a sneeze and rip the page from the book. I barely catch a glimpse of her face out of the corner of my eye, and I must say her expression is priceless. Jaw dropped, eyes wide, and everything. "You just defaced property of the U.S. government!" she calls as I leave the room. From the elevator, I can hear her playfully add, "You rebel."

As I drive to Arthur Dales' apartment, following the directions I had gotten from the FBI directory, I can't help but feel sorry for my partner, whom I had left in the office in her lonesome. She'll go home. It was sure fun while it lasted, though, wasn't it? I come to a stoplight and use the opportunity to rub my hands down my face. What is wrong with me? I shouldn't have to trick her into going to work if I want to see her. The light turns green, and I am so lost in thought that I don't even notice until the guy behind me honks. When he does, I feel my bones jump up in my skin. Startledand slightly embarrassedby the loud, abrupt wake-up call, I pounce on the accelerator and send the car into a sprint. _Man, she was sure cute this morning_, is all I can think. I reach the condominium and park my car. When I get to the door, I knockalmost giddy with excitement of meeting him.

An awkward introduction and a long tale later, I am back in my own apartment, thinking about what Arthur Dales had told me. It was an interesting case that had to do with aliens and baseball…my two favorite topics. Well, maybe my second and third favorite topics. _Hmmm_, I ponder, scrunching my eyebrows together and sticking my lips out. _Maybe she'd enjoy baseball. It's no dinner-and-a-movie, and it certainly isn't work…_ I grab my cell, leave her a quick message, and head for the park. I think I'll walk.

The kid I hired to pitch is chucking probably the twentieth ball into the pitching machine by the time she shows up, walking along the side of the cage and scuffing her heels in the dirt. "So, uh, I get this message marked 'urgent' on my answering service from one 'Fox Mantel,' telling me to come down to the park for a very special, very early or very late birthday present. And, Mulder, I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around. So what gives?"

"You've never hit a baseball, haven't you, Scully?"

"No," she says, leaning against the cage and looking about. "I guess I have, uh, found more…necessary things to do with my time than slap a piece of horsehide with a stick."

"Get over here, Scully." She gives in with the slightest hint of a grin and walks over to me. I wrap my arms around her from behind and place the bat in her hands. _Now this is better than work_, I muse.

"This is my birthday present, Mulder?" she asks less than thrilled. "You shouldn't have."

"This ain't cheap," I defend. "I'm paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls." I get the bat comfortably situated in our hands. If I may say so myself, I'm pretty comfortable, too. I feel my muscles relax around her. "It's not a bad piece of ash, huh?" Oops…Scully looks back at me with a quizzical look, and I can barely find my voice. "The bat…" I clarify. "I'm talkin' about the bat." She turns forward again, but my muscles have tightened back up with embarrassment. "Now don't strangle it," I blurt, trying to move the conversation forward. "You just want to shake hands with it. 'Hello, Mr. Bat, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.' 'Oh, no no, Miss Scully! The pleasure's all mine!'" Her giggles tell me she is finally enjoying this. "Okay, now we wannawe wanna go hips before hands, okay? And we wanna stride forward and turn," I say, gently pushing her forward in demonstration. "That's all we're thinking about. So we go hips before hands." This time placing a brave hand on her hip, I repeat the forward movement. I'm pretty confident she would understand without such demonstrations, but I have to admit to having an ulterior motive. _Wow, she smells good_.

"Okay," she says, letting me know she gets what to do…but I have to make sure…

"One more time…" I insist with an eager hand on her hip, "…hips…before hands. Right?"

"Yeah," she answers.

"What is it?"

"Hips before hands."

"Right," _Let it go now, Mulder_, I could imagine her saying…but she doesn't. I try to hide a grin as I realize she must like it too. Leaning into her body, I continue my lesson, hoping my double meanings will be apparent enough. "We're gonna wait on the pitch, and we're gonna keep our eye on the ball and then we're just gonna make contact. We're not gonna think; we're just gonna let it fly, Scully. Okay?"

"Okay," she answers seriously. _Well, maybe her subconscious picked up on it._

"Ready?" I ask.

"I'm in the middle," she giggles, playfully fighting for a better position on the bat.

"Alright, fire away, poor boy!" The ball flies out of the machine, and I step forward into her body, plunging my _front _into her _back_ as we swing the bat. _Wow_, I almost gasp at the contact, but I am surprisingly able to hold it in. When we hit the ball, the momentum of the bat sends it high up into the air. "Oo! That's good… Alright," I begin, feeling myself get really relaxed and casual. "What you may find is you concentrate on hitting that little ball, _hit_ the rest of the world just fades away…all your everyday nagging concerns _Scully giggles_ …ticking of your biological clock _hit_ …how you probably couldn't afford that nice, new suede coat on a G-woman's salary…how you threw away a promising career _hit_ in medicine to hunt aliens with a crackpot but brilliant partner…getting into the heart of a _hit_ global conspiracy…your obscenely overdue triple-X bill…" She looks back at me with the same quizzical look as before. "…oh, I'm sorry, Scully, but that's _hit_ two problems of mine. Not yours."

"Shut up, Mulder," she teases. "I'm playing baseball."

We stay at the parkhitting ballsfor another half-hour, until we are both tired. We are walking to the parking lot, when she stops and turns to face me. "Now what?" she asks, hugging herself and gripping her coat for warmth. I didn't bring a coat, so I don't have one to let her use. Feeling sorry that she is cold, and having no other ideas, I wrap my arm around her. To my surprise, she leans into me as we walk again.

"Well," I consider, "it's already eight o'clock. Maybe we should just go home."

"Oh," she shrugs, her tone dripping of disappointment.

"Or…" I begin, feeling a bit encouraged that she wants to spend time with me too, "we can see what's playing?" I wait for her reaction, but it is nonchalant, rather than the enthusiasm I had wanted.

"Nah…there's nothing good in the theaters." We are almost to her car, and I frantically pick my brain for another idea. "We can rent something, though," she says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Okay!" I say with a bit more excitement than I mean to display. When I realize that was one of my original ideas, I roll my eyes at myself for being so paranoid in the first place. _After all, it's definitely better than going home just to…_ "go to bed early tonight," I whisper without meaning to do so Apparently hearing the part I accidentally said aloud, Scully pivots on her heels and faces me. _I really do need to think before I speak…or rather, think before I think_, I add silently, giving myself a mental lecture.

"What?" she blurts as though she isn't sure if she had heard correctly.

"I-I-I-I…uh…" I stutter, my lips quivering as I try to think of something to say. I force myself to take a deep breath before continuing. "I meant, that it's too early for us to go to bed," I try. By the look on her face, I can tell that didn't help the situation in the least. Suddenly, I realize why. "I meanI mean _alone_!" My face is hotand most likely very redwith embarrassment. _So much for thinking first!_

I open my mouth to try again to remedy the awkwardness, fearing I will make it worse still, but she giggles at me and nudges my arm with her shoulder. "I think know what you mean," she comforts. I blow out a sigh of relief as she takes my arm, and we finish the walk to her car. _Scully, I don't think you do._

After telling her I had walked to the park and had no means of transportation, Scully had insisted on driving me. I can't say that wasn't part of my plan, but I pretended to not know we'd be out so late. Even though we were going to the same placesthe local Blockbuster (where we are now) and then, my apartmentI knew I could count on her for a ride home if we hadn't made plans. I guess that _was _my plan. While trying to decide what movie to rent, Scully makes her selection and waits for me to make mine. "What did you pick?" I ask, hoping it would give me a clue of what to choose. She doesn't answer. Instead, she waves the box behind her back. "So, that's how you wanna play it, huh?" I joke. "Fine. You keep your secrets." She giggles again and walks to the front of the store, awaiting my arrival at the counter.

In my apartment, I pull the bag of popcorn from the microwave and pour it's contents into a large, plastic bowl. "I hope you like butter on your popcorn, Scully," I call into the living room as I enter. She gives me a weak smile but accepts the bowl gratefully. _Hmmm…I guess she doesn't. I'll have to remember that next time._ "So which movie did you put in first? Your movie or mine?" I ask, plopping down on the couch next to her. I let out a small chuckle when she bounces in response.

"You mean my mystery movie or your _Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark_?" she teases.

"Yeah," I huff.

"I chose my mystery movie."

"Oh," I grin, more than interested to see what movie it is. For the first few minutes, there is a long line of trailers for other movies that are either now on video or coming soon to a theater near us. I am starting to notice a pattern in the type of trailers being presented when Scully stands and walks into the kitchen. Letting her treat my apartment like a home of her own, I don't even bother to comment. A few seconds later, she reappears with two bottles of beer in hand. Tilting an open one up to her lips, she holds the other up in front of me. I accept it and twist off the top. "Thanks," I chirp before taking a sip. She sets her bottle on the coffee table, taking special care in resting it on one of the available coasters, and then puts her bare feet up next to it. The irony of it makes me chuckle. I'm glad she feels so comfortable with me. I have to admit that it has been a tuff year for us…specifically five months ago. We have come a long way, I am relieved to say. Before we were taken off the X-Files for the _I-don't-even-remember_-ith time, there were a lot of trust issues. Issues that I admit were my fault. I had been sharing my expertise (or as Spender would say, "Butting in") on a particular case when my former partner, Diana, and I crossed paths. I never told Scully, but I know she found outprobably from the Lone Gunmenthat Diana and I had…history. I stupidly allowed myself to fall back on old habits and unintentionally began to side with Diana on most ideas. In retrospect, I can see what hell I put Scully through, and it pains me to think of it. It didn't take me too long to regain her friendship and trust, but the bitterness toward Diana will never disappear. I don't blame her. _Diana is…Diana…is…Diana_. I will always have feelings for Diana, but Dana Scully will always hold a larger piece of my heart. She is realone of a kind. She is the most intelligent, honest person I know and the only person I can always trust, despite the stress and heartache I cause her. Her loyalty to me is unconditional, and I want to offer the same loyalty in return. I look over at Scully, and I see her. I don't just mean _see _herof course I can _see_ herbut I mean I can _really _see her. She is the same woman I have known for the last six years, but I have been feeling different around her lately. She is subtle, but she is stunningly beautiful. She is quiet, but she is amazingly powerful. She is my strength, but she is my weakness. She is my partner, but she is the best friend I could ever have. She is my better half. She looks back at me and I turn to face the TV quickly. _And now…our feature presentation…_


End file.
